Trust english version
by Lydean
Summary: Post "Under The Radar" Ep 2x16 What might Neal be thinking? What about Peter? Their partnership and friendship are at stake!
1. Chapter 1

Post "Under The Radar" Ep 2x16 What might Neal be thinking? What about Peter? Their partnership and friendship are at stake!

Hi ! I'm French and I don't speak English very well. Fortunately, the lovely Mam711 translated my story for me. Thank you so much, Mam711 ! You're the best !

Ok, here I go. Here is a little OS based on the series I love second best (after Supernatural) called White Collar! This OS takes up just after the end of the last episode of season 2 (post "Under The Radar"). As it's nearly 6000 words, it's split into two parts. I tried to highlight the points of view of the two main characters. Feel free to tell me what you think! All criticism accepted! ^^

Good reading ! Ja ne ^^

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><p><strong>Trust<strong>

He stood in the midst of this treasure of inestimable value! He didn't even notice the huge smile that illuminated his face, and yet, it perfectly reflected what he felt in every fiber of his being.

He'd just realized what he was seeing. Everything was there. Nothing had been destroyed as he'd thought a few hours earlier. Besides, he could still feel the frustration that had emerged when he'd thought that all these works were lost forever. But, fortunately, it hadn't happened, and his relief was accompanied by indescribable joy when he found that, in addition, not a thing had been damaged. Everything was intact. It was as if the past, unreachable till then, had been delivered into his hands. Whole pages of art history had materialized like magic. It was a dream comes true. Overwhelmed by the beauty of his surroundings, he reveled in the trance into which he'd been plunged. He seemed to see the faces of all these renowned artists through their works. That all these wonders had been buried for decades in the deep oceans, without anyone to admire them! What a waste! And now here they were, on terra firma, irradiating him with their entire splendor. And what was even more amazing was that they belonged to him! ... Well ... at least in part.

It wasn't until after this long blissful moment that the first questions appeared, multiplied and jostled in his head: Who was behind all this? What expert would be generous enough ... or sufficiently crazy, to want to share this treasure with him? How had this person succeeded in stealing the works from Adler and carrying them here without anyone noticing? How had this individual been able to gather all the evidence that had made this stroke of genius possible, while he himself, who'd been at the heart of the action, had been far from having all the cards?

He fumbled around in his pocket to extract the piece of paper that had accompanied the key. The note had been typed. That was also a clue. The author certainly didn't want anyone to be able identify them and feared that their writing would betray them.

At that moment, the only name that came to mind was Mozzie. Who else could have brought together the skills necessary to achieve such a feat? And most importantly, who would have taken such risks and perils just to ultimately share the invaluable and hard-won booty with him?

On the other hand, something was amiss: if it really was Mozzie, why all this mystery, exactly? Knowing him, he could be pretty sure that he wasn't in a dark corner waiting to come out of nowhere to reveal his identity to his friend. However, in this moment he would have been here, and yet here he was, still alone! Why wouldn't Mozzie be at his side now rejoicing with him, explaining in great detail every step of his reasoning, complaining of the many dangers he'd had to face or of the physical rigors that had exhausted him ...? Maybe it hadn't been him, all things considered. But then, who?

He felt drained. The last few days had been difficult and any kind of logical reasoning right then was doomed to failure. He thought about going home but before he did, he couldn't

stop himself from wandering among the various works that were within his reach, running his fingers over the frames of paintings, now nakedly revealed to his artist's eye, sculptures fashioned at the hands of masters, infusing himself with the beauty of these masterpieces. All his life he had dreamed of having a treasure like this. Indeed wasn't it the ambition of everyone like him? ... But ... now that it was in his possession, what was he going to do? It was like the culmination of his life of crime ... a kind of last major score before retirement... Was he ready for this?

So much had happened to him, especially these last two years. The idyllic future he had so-carefully planned had vanished with the death of Kate. But where before he'd been foundering, new options were now being offered to him. He'd begun to see a different way of visualizing his existence, still himself yet living differently. And more and more often, he allowed himself to hope that, one day, he would himself get everything he envied about Peter's life.

Peter ... How was it possible, after all this time, all the hardships the two of them had gone through, that he still didn't trust him! Even though he had looked right into his eyes to assure him that he was in no way responsible in this case! But the same guy who'd said that he was his friend hadn't believed him! Had he even listened? Had he taken into account everything he'd done so far to live up to his high expectations? A ball of acid formed in his throat, followed closely by a feeling of great emptiness in his abdomen. He tried to control his breathing and closed his eyes for a moment in an effort to calm himself. But soon the image of Peter's cold hard stare came back to him. It wasn't the first time he'd seen him angry, so why did it hurt so much? This was nothing but an injustice! He was innocent and Peter was furious because he'd been persuaded otherwise.

His bitterness was suddenly transformed into apprehension. Even if it hadn't been reciprocated, he had always given all his trust to those who had become his friends. Peter believed in the law, in justice. In addition, he always needed clear evidence, obtained most legally, before accusing someone. So why the turnaround ? What could have made him so sure about him, so suddenly? What could have made him go from suspicion upon hearing Adler's proposal to totally against him, in less than a minute? He must have missed something that the well-trained FBI agent couldn't ignore! Telling him that he had to prove his guilt!

Definitely worried, he left the warehouse, but not without casting a last glance at "his treasure."

xxx

"You're home early this evening," noted Elizabeth with a playful tone, coming out of the kitchen.

She knew that her husband had just arrived. He'd been nearly silent, but she recognized the way he inserted the key into the lock and his way of moving the handle before opening the front door. What she didn't expect, however, was finding herself nose to nose with a pale-faced Peter. He seemed lost, at the same time frustrated and hopeless. She could not bear to see this expression in the eyes of the man she loved. She came close to him, questioning his worried look.

"El, I killed a man," he confessed in a whisper.

She embraced him, gripping as hard as she could. He let his head fall on his wife's shoulder before burying his face in the delicate curve of her neck. They remained entwined a few moments, comforting one another. When he made a small movement, Elizabeth stroked his face and tenderly kissed him, then she applied a soothing hand to his back and drew him to the couch.

"Come sit... Tell me everything."

"It's Adler... I killed Adler. We were searching warehouses on the docks when we heard an explosion. That's when I saw that he was no longer by the van ... I'd told him to stay there ... but he never listens."

"Is Neal okay?" asked Elizabeth, who'd understood what he was talking about despite her husband's confused statements.

"Yes, he's okay but it could have ... you know, when I finally arrived at the scene of the explosion, Adler was pointing his gun at him and threatening to kill him. I had Neal in front of me but he was hidden by Adler whose back was all I could see. That didn't prevent me from understanding the situation. I was sure he was going to pull the trigger. I heard what he said to Neal and the tone he used boded no good. There's no doubt that he would've killed him ... It happened so fast. It was the recoil of my gun that made me realize that I had just fired. And when I saw Adler collapse..." He shook his head as if to remove this image from his mind.

"You did the right thing, hon. You've got nothing to blame yourself for."

"You mean besides killing someone?"

"It was him or Neal. You didn't have a choice."

"I shouldn't have had to make that choice! I should have been better prepared, had more time to predict or at least analyze the situation! I feel like I let the events just happen ... of being a marionette..."

At these words, Elizabeth knit her eyebrows. There was definitely more than the death of that man troubling her husband. Despite this, she let him proceed without interruption.

"... I shot him in the back, without warning. Now ballistics has my weapon. There'll be an investigation. Hughes told me that I shouldn't worry, that it was an urgent situation and that given my service record, nothing would come of it."

"That's rather good news," she interjected while her husband took a breath. "And Neal will be able to testify, saying that without your intervention, Adler would have killed him."

The lack of response told her she'd put her finger on the second point which was bothering Peter.

"What's Neal done now?" she asked, sure of herself.

"He ... from what he says he did nothing, but ... It's just that I don't know what I should believe... Oh, I know exactly what you're going to say..."

"What are you talking about?"

"I know that you appreciate Neal, that you have faith in him but ..."

"Honey," she cut him off, "it's true that I appreciate Neal but that's because I see him through your eyes. Up until two years ago, all I knew about him was thanks to what you could tell me about him. I could perceive, from the way you described him, the respect you had for this man and his talent. Even without saying a word, your eyes reflected the admiration that you had for him. And when I finally met him, it was as if I'd always known him. He was exactly like I'd imagined. And that's only because you understand people's personalities and I want you to know that I've always relied on your judgment and that's not about to change."

He gave her a broad smile, showing her how grateful he was for her support. Then he became serious and shook his head again.

"The problem is that I'm not as sure as you. Perhaps I've been deceived by him from the beginning..." He sighed loudly. "I don't know what to think. Lately, I'd really thought that ... I finally felt I could trust him. I'd relaxed my vigilance and I shouldn't have."

He anticipated Elizabeth's response, waving a hand in front of her to encourage her to listen without interrupting.

"Listen, I also really, really want to believe in him. I'd love to idealize our relationship the way you do sometimes but the problem is that each time I loosen the leash at all, he takes the opportunity to pull some crazy stunt. He constantly reminds me that he's never lied to me. So of course, he is absolutely convinced but we know, you and me, that his conception of lying and of the truth is unique and doesn't agree with the definition people could have. You have to understand. I can't afford to ignore everything he's tried to hide from me, everything he's done behind my back and so I still don't know about today, and it's not the first time he's tried to manipulate me."

"I thought you'd forgiven him."

"Yes, but I haven't forgotten..." Seeing his wife's desolate look, he added, "the same way I haven't forgotten that he's also saved my life or the countless times he's helped me solve a case. What should I listen to? My irrepressible urge to believe in his sincere friendship or my reason ? Should I follow him blindly despite incriminating evidence? After all, this wouldn't be the first time someone tried to frame him when he was innocent. But I'm a lawman and he's a con man. You should have seen the expression on his face when he found himself in the middle of the treasure.

"That's a totally-normal reaction, especially for Neal, but, honey, he didn't hesitate to give up a ring worth two and a half million dollars for you..."

"It's a trifle compared to the billions of dollars that the treasure Adler discovered is worth. What touched me when he gave up the ring is that it's the one he certainly would have used to ask Kate to marry him..."

"Right, you know how much he loved that woman. That gesture meant a lot in my opinion. I know his impulsiveness can be a serious handicap for him as well as for you, but it's often been linked to Kate."

"Exactly! And I'm afraid it's still the case today. By stealing Adler's treasure, he not only puts an end to the long con he was running with his buddy Mozzie, he also gets revenge. He held the man responsible for Kate's death. It's one stone, two birds. You remember how he reacted with Fowler? ... I have a theory about what happened today and there are too many elements that validate it. Not to mention that I know that the investigation will turn up new evidence."

"I understand your frustration and your anger but I'm still sure of my position. I put my trust in you and your judgment. I'm sure you haven't been deceived by him all this time. So maybe you should go tell him your theory. See how he reacts, listen to what he has to say. It'll certainly let you see things more clearly. What've you got to lose?"

_'__My friend!_' he thought. _'__I'm afraid to find out that it was all a charade, that all these moments were actually calculated to make me relax my vigilance, that he's been using me all this time just to have access to FBI resources, using our investigations as cover while he acted in his own interests, having foolproof protection when his antics went wrong...'_

He shook his head to drive away his dark thoughts and return to a more optimistic frame of mind.

"You're right," he conceded finally with a tender smile. "Thank you, hon."

He kissed his wife before leaving the house with every intention of getting answers to his questions.

.


	2. Chapter 2

Second and last part!

Good reading! Ja ne ^^

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><p>Neal walked with measured steps, his hands in his pockets, still deep in thought. He turned the corner of his street and stopped when he noticed the Ford parked near the stone staircase that led into June's.<p>

Seeing him arrive in his rearview mirror, Peter left his car, adjusted his jacket and walked toward him.

"Peter?" threw out the young man as innocently as possible while resuming his progress.

It was impossible for him to display his usual smile. Yet it might have helped to conceal his obvious discomfort. Without seeming to, he tried to discern the mood of the person who'd been his friend just hours ago. But despite the lamplight, the darkness hid the features of his face. And even when he caught up to him, he couldn't decipher what lay behind his stoic attitude.

"Should I call you Agent Burke?" he finally asked in a tone that should have been ironic but which betrayed more of the fear of what was coming than he would have wanted.

"It all depends on the answers you give me," replied Peter, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"I'm listening."

At that moment, Neal again became confident. He finally had an opportunity to defend himself. He was innocent so whatever Peter may have against him, he wouldn't have any trouble showing him he was following a false trail.

For his part, the FBI agent scrutinized his consultant, trying to decipher his insistent look. He took out of his pocket the fragment of the painting with shades of blue and blackened edges, and handed it to the young man.

"Look what the explosion dropped right at my feet. It tells you anything?"

With furrowed brow, Neal took the piece of canvas and held it under the artificial light to better see what it was. When he recognized his painting he became livid. Confused, he stared at his friend.

"No, it's not possible!" he whispered before moving with a firm step towards June's house.

He opened the door on the fly and went up the stairs four at a time. Arriving at his threshold he turned the handle with a quick gesture, pushed the door open with one hand and turned on the light with the other, his eyes riveted at the corner of the room. His heart skipped a beat when he discovered the empty easel!

Behind him he heard heavy steps stop within a yard of him. There was no doubt that Peter could see the same thing he was seeing from over his shoulder. He rushed to the storeroom June had loaned him where he stored all his creations, but again everything was gone. Still in shock, he returned to the main room of his apartment, walked slowly toward the little table and leaned on his hands, arms outstretched, his head bowed. He blew out all his frustration and clenched his jaws. Certainly none of this would help convince Agent Burke of his innocence... But perhaps his friend, perhaps he, would make the effort to listen. With a hint of hope he lifted his head toward Peter, who still stood in the doorway.

"I don't know how my painting could've gotten there," he declared simply, shaking his head very slightly from left to right. "Nor where the rest of them went," he murmured before trying to use his most convincing tone. "You have to believe me! I didn't do anything!"

In observing Neal's reaction, Peter felt a measure of relief. Maybe it was because he had taken the time to speak with Elizabeth or because he wanted to believe in him but the young man's pleading look reflected a certain sincerity. So he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and take the time to talk with him to clarify certain gray areas. If, over time, they'd formed bonds of friendship, it was nevertheless true that Neal's activities were suspicious, and the theory that he had deduced from his observations was still possible. He entered the room, shut the door behind him and began the interrogation:

"With my whole slew of agents, all of them determined to locate Adler's warehouse, and while we were on a wild goose chase, you, strangely, you immediately find the right one. If you weren't in on any of it, how'd you know where to go?"

"I didn't know!" Neal defended himself, shaking his head again while trying to look him in the eye in order to give more weight to what he was saying. "I heard the buoy. It reminded me of Alex's description and of what I'd heard behind Adler's voice when I talked to him on the phone, so ..."

"So you told yourself, as long as you had nothing else to do, it would be in your best interest to go do a little reconnaissance," Peter said ironically, knowing his young consultant well. "And it didn't occur to you to inform me."

"But I wasn't at all sure that it ... yes, I should have," admitted the young man at the significant look that his friend directed at him.

"Yes, you should have! It would have avoided a lot of problems for you, and for me. What was Adler talking about just before I killed him?" continued Peter, suppressing the horrible feeling that assailed him when he spoke those last three words.

"I've already told you: I didn't know anything!"

Neal was losing patience. The twist the conversation was taking did not suit him. Since the man who stood in front of him called himself his friend, couldn't he make an effort and give him a minimum of credit ? He was disappointed by his attitude, annoyed by this ridiculous interrogation and furious that whatever he said or did, it was never enough.

"I'm innocent, Peter!" he exploded, noticing the absence of reaction in front of him. "Why don't you believe me? If it's so hard for you to trust me, let me take a polygraph!"

Peter didn't bother responding. That experience hadn't been very conclusive the last time. Sara had accused him and even if she had not allowed herself to be deceived, no one knew the clever little trick he'd used to falsify the results.

"Okay," Neal fully understood the reason for this silence, "then explain to me what I'm supposed to have done. Because it's physically impossible, Peter. I was with you the whole time!"

The look the agent gave him turned dark in an instant and Neal immediately grasped what had crossed his mind: He had already used that argument when he'd asked Alex to steal the music box from Diana's. He lowered his eyes. Decidedly, this conversation was nothing like what he'd imagined! His situation was getting worse by the minute and he had the unpleasant feeling that nothing that he could say or do would help.

"Understand me, Neal," Peter intervened on seeing the young man's crushed expression. "I know what the treasure discovered by Adler represents in your eyes. I also know the hatred you feel for him. And I can't forget what you told me about the long con you engineered with Mozzie. What do you think I was thinking when I found you near the warehouse that had just exploded, in Adler's company?"

"He was pointing a gun at me!" He became unnerved, trembling at the idea of having been at death's door.

"Yes, and he looked furious because apparently he held you responsible for the loss of his treasure. Did you make a deal with him, Neal?"

"No!" He took offense before remembering Adler's proposition. "Um ... okay, it's true, he offered me a deal on the docks but I refused. He killed Kate, Peter!"

"And you found a way to avenge yourself on him ..."

"No! I'll tell you again, I wasn't there for any of it! I would never have blown up such an art collection!"

"That's true, but you could have gotten revenge by stealing it. Is it unreasonable to think that you could have transported the loot somewhere else and replaced it with your own work to make it look like everything had been reduced to ashes?"

"Is it unreasonable to think that it was a set-up designed to incriminate me?" the young man immediately defended himself, horrified by the idea that the theory was so plausible.

"Don't try to play me, Neal!"

"But this wouldn't be the first time someone tried to frame me!"

"Who ?"

"I don't know! Give me some time ... the last time, as soon as I had evidence in hand, it was to you that I entrusted it."

"That's true," admitted Peter, scrupulously observing the young man's reaction. "But so far you've provided me with nothing tangible that could prove your innocence."

Neal wanted to howl ! All the good he had done so far had been for nothing! Peter couldn't see that he'd done his best, sometimes counter to his true nature, carrying out successful actions that should have gained him more consideration from him? After all they had experienced, couldn't he give him a break? Of course his theory still made sense, of course he'd be able to find evidence about his culpability if he really wanted, but was it so difficult to take into account everything good he'd done as a consultant ... as a friend?

Decidedly, he detested those moments where he could read suspicion in the eyes of the man he considered his friend. He did not deserve it, not after everything the two of them had been through! Peter couldn't see how much he had changed his life? Working and even living in contact with him had made him question many of the certainties that he had formed based on his past experience. He was the only person with whom he had real trust. He'd always been able to count on him, even in the worst moments. The law-abiding FBI agent at his side was more reliable than anyone he'd met living the life of intrigue and deception that he'd known till then. When he'd confessed that he was the only one that he really trusted, it was sincere.

It was as if he'd always known him. He felt ready to tell him anything about his life - something completely inconceivable in The World According to Mozzie, and something his past experience had strictly forbidden. Yet he had shelled out some highly-confidential information to which only Mozzie had had knowledge thus far. And Peter had lived up to everything that he had imagined. Despite what he'd said, despite what he'd admitted, this new friend's response had been sincere and his words and his attitude toward him had a reassuring side. The relationship he'd built over time with him had nothing to do with what he had known before and he had made it a point of honor to preserve it. His path had not been without error, of course. But in his defense, this was the first time anything like this had happened. All the effort he'd made should have been weighed in the balance.

He was fond of those moments when Peter showed that he was proud of him, where he congratulated him, encouraged him ... That also was new but he'd developed a taste for it. Previously, he'd never experienced that feeling you get when a person you respect greatly shows all the appreciation they can for you or for your actions. In some ways, he saw Special Agent Burke as a father figure. In fact, he'd been surprised at the thought that he would like hearing Adler's words coming out of Peter's mouth. One thing was certain, he didn't want to be the son that Adler had never had, just like he didn't want to be the son of the man who, all things considered, was nothing but the guy he got half his genes from. That was something he could never admit to anyone, least of all to Peter and certainly not at this moment. He didn't want to take the risk that his words be interpreted as an attempt to manipulate.

Yet he ought to say something. Since he had nothing but his word to try to clear himself, he chose his last resort:

"Peter, I'm the same person you've known since we made this custody agreement. I'm the way I am, with my faults and my ... skills," he finally said, taking particular care in choosing his words. "And I'm also the one who's had your back for two years, the one you counted on numerous times to complete your investigations, who didn't hesitate to give everything if things went wrong for you or Elizabeth, who ate at your house just last night, who listened to you talk about the best way to be a happy man. I'm even the one who walks your dog!

_'__You're the one I trust when it really counts_,' thought Peter. It was not so much the words the young man had used but his attitude which he found convincing. Yes, okay, Neal was a forger of international renown and he could bamboozle anyone he wanted. But he, Peter Burke, did he not pride himself on knowing him better than anyone? And at that precise moment, what he saw in his eyes, that was sincerity. He was convinced. He refused to listen to his reason which was telling him to beware, and allowed himself to slowly be persuaded. That allowed him to minimize his concerns and, in the same vein, begin to believe in the presumption of innocence of his young friend in this case. He took a deep breath at the relief he felt at that moment.

Neal didn't interpret the sigh as such because he frowned, visibly frustrated and annoyed, while continuing to plead his case:

"We've gone through so much together, Peter. You can't do this to me ... not now."

"I want to believe you, Neal, I really do, so don't disappoint me," he warned him seriously without disrupting the indecisive look his partner was giving him. "See you first thing tomorrow at the office. I'm still convinced that it wasn't the Nazi loot that exploded in that warehouse and I'll have proof when the analysis comes back in a few hours. So we'll have work to do because if I am not mistaken, there's bound to someone behind all of this. We'll have to find out who and recover all the art that was stolen.

Neal didn't know what to think anymore. Peter's last words suggested that he'd given him the benefit of the doubt but did that mean he believed him innocent? Their partnership and their friendship was hanging by a thread and if he wanted it back he would have to do everything he could to prove his innocence and additionally show him he could trust him. It was in putting his hands in his pockets that his fingers stroked a small piece of paper and a bit of cold metal: the note and the key. He didn't need the analysis results to know that Peter was right: the treasure hadn't exploded and besides, he knew exactly where to find it. He understood then that what he did with this information might ruin everything. What should he do? His anxiety grew but he did his best to not let it show. What he needed to do for the moment was to keep this secret and think about it with a clear head before making any decision. Peter's deep voice startled him, and he saw that once again he sported a suspicious look.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Neal, I need to know," began the agent calmly while his young consultant prayed that it would be a question he could answer truthfully. "Can I count on you?"

"Yes, Peter," he assured him, sure of himself. "You can count on me."

"OK, then, see you tomorrow."

Peter looked at him one last time before heading to the exit. Once on the other side of the door, he stood still for a moment. He would've liked to have said something else before leaving the room, but he was no longer sure of anything. He didn't really know why, but he felt that something was off. He'd begun to feel remorse over the accusations he'd made against his friend. If Neal wasn't guilty, then his frustration and anger had been justified. Being wrongly accused was the worst injustice to him and his commitment to help was certainly about solving this case, but above all about proving his innocence ... Unless it was to spy and better cover his tracks!

He shook his head to drive the idea from his mind. All of the conversation they'd just had had convinced him of his friend's innocence. There was no reason for him to start to doubt him again... Except perhaps for that absent look that had started during the last few minutes. Neal definitely wasn't responsible for the explosion at the warehouse, he certainly hadn't stolen Adler's booty, and he apparently wasn't the instigator of this whole scam, but he had no doubt that he was in fact hiding something. He and his buddy Mozzie, they had made it clear to him: "With crooks, you always try to stay one step ahead." Even if he gave him the benefit of the doubt, he'd still have him in sight! Satisfied with his decision, he continued on his way, delighted at the prospect of returning home to his lovely wife.

He didn't take a normal breath until he finally heard Peter's footsteps going down the stairs. He swallowed hard before dropping heavily into the chair. He was faced with a dilemma that seemed insurmountable. What should he do? With this treasure in his possession, many options were open to him. But each decision would bring with it consequences that he wasn't sure he could live with. What was most important to him? How to be sure he would follow the right path, one that would make him a happy man? Did he really want the life of a fugitive? Billionaire, certainly, but still a fugitive! And with whom did he share the wealth? He still didn't know who was behind all this. He assumed that only a friend could have this crazy desire to give him a share of the spoils, but while he didn't know their identity, he preferred to remain wary. Should he talk to Mozzie? Should he once again involve him at the risk of his life? He was increasingly convinced that his friend had nothing to do with it and it greatly limited his list of "suspects". Would it be a betrayal if he went back for a small sample - just a few pieces - and stashed them in a place known only to himself? That would be a fairly good starting point, security, before making another decision.

Finally the real question was whether he should confess to Peter that he knew the location of the treasure. To be quite honest, so far the FBI agent had been an invaluable resource who had not hesitated to reach out his strong hand to him when he needed it ... without him even having openly asked him, even! Maybe they could team up to find out who was behind all this? Depending on the identity of the benefactor, he could then notify them of what he'd done with the little bit of stashed loot. It was a pretty good plan ... well ... if he ignored everything that he was going to have to hide from Peter. The trouble was that he had no idea how the FBI agent would react when he learned he was in possession of the key that unlocked the warehouse where the treasure was stashed! Wouldn't he end up behind bars in his vile orange uniform before even finishing the sentence? It would certainly be wiser to find a way to let him discover the place without being directly involved. Only it would have to be good because the last time he tried to scam the FBI by falsifying a folder, Peter had in the end discovered the truth. And in this case, it would only mean one thing: back to prison! And this time, there'd be no use counting on his arrangement with the FBI!

He leaned his elbows on the table and buried his head between his hands. Although he was exhausted, he knew that he would never get to sleep. Everything was confused and he wasn't out of the woods yet. Only one thing was certain: The time had come to choose!

*** The end ***


End file.
